


Suitcase

by jackettslutt



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Choking, Emotional Sex, Gay Sex, Gentle Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut, Smut with a plot, brallon, i tried okay, sad beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 03:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackettslutt/pseuds/jackettslutt
Summary: Brendon has a rather fucked up way of coping with things that hurt him.Dallon doesn't even know he's hurting Brendon until it's (almost) too late.They both love each other dearly, and they need to talk it out like adults. Perhaps, there are other things that can help them get past this petty argument.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Smut is not my strong suit I'm sorryyyyy 
> 
> (If you saw this somewhere on wattpad that is likely my account, I swear I didn't plagiarize hehe. The name is Jacket_Slut4977)

Brendon has a rather fucked up way of coping with things that hurt him. He tries to keep his focus appointed to the least amount of things he possibly can; it helps minimize overwhelming thought processes, and in turn, helps him with his crippling anxiety disorder.

He _tries_ not to let things get to him. He tries not to let it affect his personal life. He tries not to let it get between him and the one person in the world he'd die for. He tries. All he does every day is try his fucking hardest to do the right thing, but at this point, it's just allowing things to sieve through his fingers no matter what he does. Things are falling apart and Brendon can't help but blame himself for it.

He no longer cleans or cooks while _he's_ out at work. He no longer hurries to the mirror to fix his hair and clothes when _he_ pulls up in the driveway. He doesn't even greet _him_ at the door with a smile and a kiss like he used to.

It's not because he doesn't love him, please, don't get him wrong. He loves him more than anything in the world.

It's because he knows deep down he's not who has Dallon's attention anymore.

He started wearing the same outfit every particular day of the week. Every Sunday, he wears black boxer briefs and any clean T-shirt left over from laundry he didn't wear in the last week or so. Monday, he wears blue jeans and a white T-shirt. Every Tuesday, he wears dark gray jeans and a black V-neck. Every Wednesday he wears black jeans and a navy blue T-shirt. Every Thursday, he wears patterned boxer briefs and a ratty dark purple sweater he's had since he was a teenager, before he was backhandedly ran out of his own home for his religious choices and sexuality. Every Friday, he picks something random from his closet. Every Saturday, he's too depressed to change Fridays outfit, so he lurks the house wearing the same clothes his nightmares made him sweat in. It's become routine.

He's having a hard time taking care of himself anymore, so he has to drag his feet to shower every other day and set up most of his daily hygienic or general to-dos at the beginning of the week. This includes how he puts his alarm in the bathroom so he actually has to get out of bed to turn it off, and he might as well brush his teeth while he's in there.

Every week, he chooses a word. One word he feels he needs to focus or work on before that Saturday, whether it's to better himself or fix something that's making him miserable. Some weeks he just needs to eat more: "food". Some weeks he needs to interact with others before he goes insane: "people". Some weeks he needs to get everything out of his system before he does something he may or may not regret: "cry".

Last weeks word was "communicate". No, not with him. Not with a therapist. Not with friends, or family, or a grocery store clerk. With himself.

He forced himself to sit on the bed directly across from the mirror propped on the dresser and look at himself. The dark circles. The bloodshot eyes. The quivering lip, the absolute fucking mess he was looking at through that one-way window. He hated what he saw, more than he hated how quickly he broke down into tears and sobbed so hard his lungs trembled and he ended up dry heaving over the side of the bed. To say the least, last weeks word was a failed attempt.

The word of this week is "denial". He's in denial that he's hurting. He's in denial that he's sinking fast. He's in denial that things are falling apart.

He's in denial that Dallon doesn't love him anymore.

He's so tired of the route his life is taking, it was the last straw when he found something under the bed that stunned him into paralysis while he was searching for his other sock. He stared at it with wide, glossy eyes when he realized what it was, what was inside, he finally knew what it felt like to get directly clotheslined at full speed.

He suddenly couldn't breathe. He hadn't cried that hard in a long time.

—

He heard the unmistakeable sound of car tires crushing the gravel of their driveway down into itself. Quiet break screech, the silence of the engine. The headlights shining through the white front window curtains shut off.

Two and a half hours late.

Brendon sighed just like every other night, he look up from the dining room table he was sat at, from the nightly glass of liquor in his hand. He was dressed and ready to leave just in case this went south, he knows how they can get when they argue.

A leather jacket, particularly, to try and keep the biting cold out if he was to leave but it also would be ventilated enough to where he wouldn't suffocate in a heated argument. Glasses to see Dallon's face of denial and hatred when he confronts him, rings for comfort.

The kitchen to his left was dark and untouched. This wasn't the first night Dallon came home to no dinner on the table, and at this point, it certainly wouldn't be the last. Brendon officially gave up when he started coming home and not entering the kitchen at all to eat; he had already had dinner before he showed up.

That's when he started to realize the little things: Dallon's giddiness when he arrived late, the distance, the secretiveness, the lock on his phone. All these years, hadn't had a lock on his phone until a month ago when this all started.

'Now's your time,' he said to himself as he stood and set the glass down on the table with a quiet clinking sound. 'Confront him face to face and don't hold back.'


	2. Pt. 2

As the sound of keys jingling outside of the front door rang in Brendon's ears, the panic actually started to set in. He felt like he was going to get sick but he swallowed down the sour liquor that hit the back of his throat.

Things quickly went into slow motion. The doorknob turned, the door slowly opened, a tall figure walked in. Oh god, the tall ruggedly handsome man with a mess of hair and a suit and tie comes in with the stupid fucking cheeky grin that enrages Brendon every time he looks at it.

At first, Dallon seems unaware Brendon's standing there. He turns his head back and shuts the door, his left arm occupied with his suit jacket and briefcase in hand, the keychain jingling quietly in his right.

He's still smiling when he looks up and jumps, clearly he hadn't expected to see him up at this time.

"Hey Bren, can't sleep?"

Brendon's standing straight with his arms crossed over his chest. When he doesn't smile or really move at all, Dallon's fades.

"Brendon?"

He questions a second time. Brendon's breathing rapidly shallows and he doesn't realize he breaks and starts to cry until Dallon drops his stuff down by the door and hurries over to him, trying to console him but Brendon backs away and pushes his hands off of his arms.

"Stop.."

"Brendon,"

"Stop Dallon."

"Baby-"

"Stop fucking touching me!"

He shoves Dallon away from him, raising his voice so unexpectedly loud that he startles himself. Dallon stands a few feet away from him, shocked, genuine disbelief and confusion in his dimly illuminated face.

Brendon uses the pads of his thumb and index finger to wipe the tears from his closed eyes under his glasses, he sniffles and wipes his nose before crossing his arms trying to regain his stern composure again.

"Brendon, what's gotten into you?"

"I could be asking you the same thing." His voice is hoarse, but he pretends it isn't.

"What are you talking about? You're crying and it concerned me, okay? Pardon me for trying to make a nice gesture." He straightens the tie that was flung up onto his shoulder in the short altercation.

"Nice gesture?" He chuckles darkly, "are you kidding me right now? I've been miserable the last month and a half and you haven't cared one fucking bit!"

Dallon's face is filled with offended anger. "What the fuck are you talking about? I wake up every single morning to you snuggled against my side, I come home to you already peacefully asleep in bed with damp hair and you expect me to sense that you're _miserable_?"

"That's the problem, Dallon! You only see me late at night when I'm asleep and I never fucking see you! What, you think I'm going to believe you suddenly got all these extra hours that happen to keep you late enough to where I won't know when you come home? Well think again, Dallon, because I barely sleep at night anymore now that I know what you're doing behind my back!"

There's a short pause.

"What are you saying? Are you?.." he scoffs and looks back towards the hallway, then at the hardwood floor as his tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek. His weight is all set on one foot and the other is positioned outward a bit. His head shakes when he makes direct eye contact again. "Are you accusing me of being unfaithful?"

The words coming from Dallon himself hit Brendon harder than he expected. A fresh batch of tears flood his lash line and spill perfectly centered down his cheek from both eyes, gathering underneath his chin before they drop out of sight. Seeing this alone makes Dallon's expression soften and fists unclench.

Brendon really is convinced, and he can understand why.

In attempt to hide his emotions, he tilts his head down as he lets out a soft choked sob and his glasses slip down his nose a little. His fingers dig into the sleeves of his leather jacket, they're still crossed tightly across his chest and shaking from frustration. The breath he takes in is audibly shaky.

"I-I found your suitcase."

Dallon's eyes instantly widen, his weight distributes itself back into both legs and he tries to advance towards Brendon, who backs up quicker this time and runs into the table noisily behind him.

"Brendon please don't avoid me like that." His voice is much softer this time. "Baby, please. You don't understand-"

"You were going to leave me and not even say anything."

"What? No-"

"Stop fucking lying to me," he says under his breath, "I know better."

"I'm not going to leave you." He steps forward again, "I never planned on such a thing."

Brendon doesn't say a word when he keeps stepping away from him and eventually sits sideways in the chair diagonal to the one he was originally sitting in. His hand is positioned up against his mouth, he refuses to look up, he seems as if he's deep in thought. Looking down on him, Dallon sighs.

"I'm not cheating on you either."

No reaction.

"Come on Brendon, you have to give me something here. It's not like you've been the brightest ray of sunshine lately, either."

Brendon moves his hand down so it's clasped with his other, his forearms resting on his knees. He smacks his lips a little and looks up at Dallon with expressionless eyes. "Really."

"Yes, really!" He's so fucking frustrated at this point, "Just last night I tried to get close to you when you were drying off and you pushed me away! All I'm trying to do is work during the day and some nightshifts to support the two of us and come home to someone I love at night!"

"But you clearly don't fucking love me!" He stands quickly, he's in Dallon's face and they're both getting heated. "You're out at night eating dinner and goofing off with someone else because you're fucking bored of me! Don't be such a fucking dick about it and just leave already!"

He moves to push past Dallon, who catches his arm, and instinctively Brendon turns around and smacks him across the face.

Both of them stand quiet for a moment, shocked as to what just happened. An echoing silence filled the room after the harsh sound of Brendon's open hand against Dallon's face. He doesn't even apologize.

He jerks his arm from his grip and walks out the front door.


	3. Pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where the actual smut is, sorry in advance for how terrible it actually is my bad

They remain separated for several minutes before Dallon opens the door and joins Brendon outside, who scoffs at the fact he stands beside him at the railing.

He's leaned down with his elbows supporting his upper body weight on the railing as he looks out over their front yard and the houses lined across the street. He has a cigarette between his fingers, smoke dancing in a thin line from where the ashes burn red and gray.

"I thought you quit smoking."

"I never said I did." He raises his hand to his lips, inhales deeply, and then crosses his forearm back over the other again.

"Smoking is bad for you."

"What the fuck do you want from me Dallon?"

"I want you to talk to me, that's what."

"What do you think I'm doing right now?"

Dallon's jaw clenches a bit at Brendon's attitude, but he breathes the frustration away. "I want you to be rational and mature."

"You're asking _me_ to be mature right now? Yeah, sure."

Dallon falls silent at the obvious sarcasm, which remains for several minutes, the only sound being Brendon's soft exhales every time he puffs that disgusting tobacco stick. As he's putting it out, his hand freezes still when Dallon suddenly speaks up.

"Our third anniversary is coming up."

Brendon swallows the thick ache in his throat before flicking the cigarette butt down into the grass; one of Dallon's biggest pet peeves. "Why are you bringing that up bow?"

"Because that's my explanation. I've been working very late hours lately to save up money for your gift. The lock you saw on my phone, the one you raised an eyebrow at and then set it back down frowning? That was because I didn't want you seeing recent plane ticket purchases or texts between my and my coworker. The same coworker who sets alarms to bring me takeout while I'm at the desk starving my ass off so I can get almost $5 extra an hour, which is why I don't come home hungry. The suitcase under the bed? Well, you know how I am. When my mind is on something I'm persistent, which goes for both you and things like flight planning. I have ideas, Bren. These ideas cost money, which costs time. I'm taking you somewhere special and I wanted to be able to afford special things for our journey."

Brendon feels such an immense amount of guilt in his gut that bile rises in his throat when everything falls into place. He's silent for a moment, then he's turning to Dallon unsure if he's emotional or not. "Dallon, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I didn't.. _god_ I didn't think of that at all m-my brain just went crazy and convinced me something was wrong and it.. I'm so sorry Dallon I don't even know how to explain it," he says quickly in only two breaths, he's gently touching Dallon's arm and he's shaking worse than before. "I feel like such an asshole, I'm sorry."

With a weak chuckle, Dallon turns and gently pulls Brendon into a hug. "Stop apologizing. The second you broke down in there it all came together and even I understood where you were coming from. I'm bad at being the good kind of secretive, the kind that excites you, apparently when I take a shot it comes off as something way worse than I intend."

"I really am sorry. I'm such an idiot.."

"Hey," he looks down at Brendon, who looks up at him simultaneously with glossy, wide brown eyes. Dallon practically melts at the sight. "I understand your point of view. I'm just glad it's cleared up now, the last two months or so must have been awful for you."

He softly nods in confirmation. Dallon gives him a sad expression, but he smiles nonetheless. He leans in to gently peck Brendon's lips with his own.

Brendon isn't satisfied with just that, though. Almost two months of abstinence, all of this frustration and fear lifted from his shoulders, he wants more. He pulls his lover down by his tie and reconnects their lips again. Dallon takes the invitation to push back harder against Brendon's velvety smile, a sharp inhale through his nose as Brendon steps so his body is flush against his own. He parts his lips enough to draw his tongue against Brendon's bottom one, causing him to whine softly and part his lips, too.

Dallon is eager to invade Brendon's cigarette and liquor flavored mouth, who hopelessly battles back — he knows already he wouldn't win in a million years.

He trails kisses down Brendon's jawline, who exhales gently, his eyes flutter shut as he leans his head back to give Dallon access to his exposed neck. He shivers when one of Dallon's hands pushes the shoulder of his jacket down and he bites down on his collarbone, his other hand gripping Brendon's ass softly as he mouths at the soft pale skin.

He feels goosebumps rising on Brendon's neck, when he makes a soft breathy moan sound Dallon knows he's at the right spot. His hot breath and relaxed lips against Brendon's skin makes the boy melt into his touch.

Usually, things aren't this gentle. But for now all Dallon cares about is making sure Brendon knows he's his one and only, his whole world, his universe; the only person who he touches this way. He's damn determined to make this a night Brendon won't forget.

The hand not holding the collar of Brendon's shirt to the side so he can mark more areas slides up Brendon's back, under his shirt and jacket, touching the warm soft skin hidden underneath. His hands are cold from standing out here and he can tell by the way Brendon gasps before pressing further into him.

He trails kisses up the side of Brendon's neck, which lulls relaxedly to the side, and he nibbles on Brendon's earlobe. His voice is low and rustic, a monotone chest voice whisper that rumbles Brendon to his core.

"Let's take this inside." Brendon weakly nods in approval.

—

The moment they enter the bedroom Brendon's leather jacket is on the floor, Dallon's kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie. They look up at each other and make a predator v.s predator kind of eye contact, their pupils indistinguishable from their irises from the dimness of the light shining in from the hallway, even Dallon's.

Usually his eyes are what draw your directly to the center of his face; the bright oceanic hue that you swear you can actually see waves crashing in if you look hard enough.

But not now. Right now, they're completely enveloped in black and he looks like he's ready to attack and obliterate prey. To say the least, Brendon's super fucking happy he gets to be that prey.

Brendon pulls his shirt over his head, and just as the material is lifted out of his sight, Dallon's suddenly standing close to him and gripping him through his jeans. It's so forceful Brendon backs up against their dresser, both palms at his sides resting on the edge of the wood, his big innocent eyes have melted into a submissive space like cheap black candle wax.

He notices that Dallon's black tie is still very loosely around his neck, his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down and pulled halfway out from where it's tucked inside his jeans, his zipper and belt already undone and sticking outward to reveal a dangerously low-sitting boxer waistband. The sight makes Brendon's cheeks flush dark red and his jeans to become tighter. He's now squeezing the edge of the dresser tightly in his hands.

"I feel you getting harder by the second, baby.."

He looks down in embarrassment because he can't help but push his hips against Dallon's larger hand. It shifts a bit and he hears the sound of a zipper being drawn down painfully slowly. His button is undone and he immediately feels a small pressure release when the fabric loosens.

Dallon's hands slide up Brendon's bare stomach chest before they stop, the pads of his thumbs softly running across Brendon's nipples, which harden a little as he shivers and starts to shake.

"That was naughty of you, to hit me like that." He states deeply, not in anger, but in dominance. And for the record, Brendon knows he's right. He hadn't intended to hit Dallon the way he did, it just happened. He still felt guilty because he could see a slightly darker color difference between Dallon's cheek and the rest of his face, even in this dim lighting.

"I-I'm sorry.."

"Oh sweetheart, you've no idea how sorry you're actually going to be when I'm finished." He gently pushes his knee between Brendon's legs, making the boy whimper softly. His head lulls back again as he breathes shallowly like he did earlier, but it's for a completely different reason this time. If he were to start crying again, it'd more than likely be from ecstasy.

Dallon's kissing at Brendon's jaw again, running his tongue across the skin before he bites down on it hard enough for Brendon to make a soft sound, a mix between pleasure and disproval. One of his hands mindlessly attempt to slip into the front of Dallon's jeans but it's quickly caught by the other mans hand.

"Finish undressing." He states simply, pulling away so they're no longer in contact and Brendon suddenly feels an empty coldness. He doesn't say anything, though, he only obliges and pushes his pants down his legs.

He nearly trips himself trying to take off his boxer briefs because he can't take his eyes off of Dallon, especially now that he's wearing nothing but a black tie around his neck, which he lifts over his head causing his hair to fly up ward and then settle back down in a messy, sexy manner. He turns to a now nude, rock hard Brendon.

"I'd use this to tie your hands to the bed frame, but my back misses the feeling of your nails." He smirks, he knows talk like this sexually frustrates his lover. Not necessarily dirty talk, but things he wouldn't dare say around others in public. Simple monotone thoughts which put images in Brendon's head that make his knees weak.

"But.."

"That wasn't a suggestion, Bren. That was final." He drops the tie to the floor along with the very expensive suit strewn across it, "Now come here baby, face the bed."

Brendon hesitates, Dallon is so calm and collected unlike he usually is in the bedroom. He's not sure if it's a good or bad thing, he's not sure if this means it's going to leave him unable to walk or buzzing with nothing but afterglow.

He slowly walks up to Dallon, looking up at him as he passes him, then stands in front of the messy sheets he hadn't made this morning with his hands fidgeting in front of him. He can feel his heartbeat in his groin and the fact it's starting to ache a bit makes him break out in a cold sweat.

Suddenly, there are hands snaking around his waist, lips against his right shoulder. He whimpers a bit louder than before when Dallon takes him in his hand and strokes him softly, mostly just his tip, and runs his thumb across his sensitive slit that makes his legs buckle. He has to lift one of his legs so it's kneeling on the expensive mattress to support his trembling weight.

All Brendon can do with his hands is hold the arm wrapped around his waist with all his might, digging his nails in as his eyes squeeze shut.

"I know that's not all you've got," Dallon mumbles against his neck, "I know you're repressing those pretty sounds, baby boy. And you know very well I don't like that." Brendon doesn't have the chance to apologize before his shoulder is bitten harder than he expects, he hisses in pain though his stomach lurches and he knows he twitched in Dallon's hand.

The taller mans other arm moves, Brendon doesn't think much of it before he begins to play with his nipple again, and he moans softly.

"Do you want me to prep you?"

"N-no.."

"Are you sure baby?" He raises an eyebrow because Brendon rarely ever declines preparation, if at all. It's usually routine but for some reason Dallon felt the need to ask him, and he was taken by surprise by the answer he received.

"Yes. I-I want you right now, please.." he says in a bit of desperation, biting his lip when he receives a nod in reply. He leaves Brendon standing there for only a moment to dig into the bedside drawer for a small bottle of lubrication, it's the least he could do for Brendon's comfort.

Dallon opens the bottle and strokes himself with the slick liquid and then adds it to Brendon's entrance as well, the boy shuddering at the coldness. He continues gently stroking his lover as he does so, then kisses at his shoulder again. He knows by the shaking in Brendon's legs that he isn't ready for this so he gives him a few minutes to prepare himself.

"I'm gonna put it in now, baby." He warns against the soft skin of his neck and stops stroking Brendon so he can hold around his waist, slowly pushing in his tip, then thrusting in the rest of the way with a choked sound coming from Brendon. He feels awful because he knows that was strictly a sound of pain and not a moan, though those are soon to come.

The boys face is tensed up and red, his nails are still dug into Dallon's arm as he desperately tries to adjust to the stretch, but it's not working. The knee that's propped up on the mattress feels out of place, his stomach hurts, the arch of the foot on the carpet aches. His eyes are full of tears but the mere thought that Dallon's inside of him right now makes his dick drip with precum.

Brendon doesn't notice immediately when Dallon's arm removes itself from around him until two hands are on his back and he's being pushed down face first into the mattress. His hands instinctively grip at the sheets with all their might and tears flood from his eyes onto the soft gray material.

One of Dallon's hands are placed in the center of Brendon's back, holding him still, the other is gripping his hip so they don't manage to fall away from him. He's standing between one of Brendon's feet and his calf, sticking out horizontally from where his knee is now digging into the edge of the mattress.

"D-Dallon.." the boy whispers softly, it sounds like a cry for help but it's not the first time he's heard it before. It means he's so overwhelming horny he doesn't know what to do with himself and he's relying on his boyfriend to help him.

Dallon pulls out a bit, then thrusts back in with a bit of force. His grunt and Brendon's whimper fall in unison. Brendon arches his back softly and that changes things for both of them; Dallon pushes in deeper and Brendon's eyes roll to the back of his head.

He repeats the same action as before which draws another sound from Brendon's lips, closer to the sound Dallon's trying to get out of him, so he does it again. He steps a bit closer to the mattress and pulls out completely before pushing all the way back in to the hilt, this time Brendon fully moans and starts to shake. Bingo.

He sets a steady medium pace that causes him bite his bottom lip hard, and grunts to find their way out of him on occasion. Brendon's breathing in and out audibly and each exhale resembles a soft moan, he's started to move back against Dallon's hips which tells him he's ready for more.

He thrusts harder now and Brendon's soft sounds become choked moans and if Dallon didn't know any better, he'd think he was crying into the sheets.

"Dallon, s-sir I'm g-"

The name that slips from Brendon's lips makes Dallon's stomach churn as he pulls out completely, "Not yet you aren't. Flip onto your back for me, scoot yourself up against the pillows for me, pretty boy."

He watches with hungry eyes as Brendon struggles to even sit himself up, trembling like an abused animal as he falls onto his back with a wince and drags himself up the sheets to lay his head on the pillows. His legs are spread wide and bent up at his sides, shaking hard, and Dallon feels like he could get himself off at the mere sight he's created.

Brendon's desperate, his cheeks are stained with tears, and his hands are gripping the sheets to hold back from touching himself, though he's dripping steadily onto his own stomach. He's a fucking mess that Dallon wants to worsen.

He crawls up onto the bed between Brendon's legs, grinding himself down against the boys dick and kissing him harshly. It's mostly teeth and the taste of Brendon's tears but neither of the men care. All they care about is how amazing yet unsatisfied they both feel in this moment.

Brendon lifts his head to deepen the kiss, moaning at the feeling of Dallon's invasive tongue. He rolls his hips up against the other mans as pleasure shoots through his system like a dose of morphine.

He breaks away from the kiss long enough to mutter "please" and "sir I n-need..", which is all Dallon needs to hear before he can't help himself, even if he wanted to.

He looks down between them and with one hand he positions himself against Brendon's entrance, pushing just hard enough to where his tip is almost in, and then he repositions that hand beside Brendon's shoulder. He watches at the boy crumbles underneath him when he's getting stimulated but not enough to get him closer to the edge.

"Dallon, please," he begs and looks up at him with big, pleading eyes. "Please."

The taller man smirks softly and, with both hands supporting his weight on either side of Brendon's body, he thrusts all the way in in one swift move. He watches as the boys eyes widen and his mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. He looks as if he's in agony and he's close to not being able to take it anymore, but also as if he wants more, more, more.

He doesn't start slow this time, he's thrusting fast enough to where Brendon's body jerks upward towards the headboard with every move. When he slows himself just enough to where he can put force into it, the headboard starts it thump against the wall, over, and over again, with a soft constant thudding sound.

Brendon's arms are wrapped tightly around Dallon's torso and as the man hits his special spot, he cries out and claws animalistically down his back, making him grunt and furrow his eyebrows. This sight is all Brendon wants to see, an actual facial expression coming from Dallon, a reaction from the burn in his back and how good he feels when he fucks Brendon into the mattress.

He pulls one of the boys legs up and props it up onto his shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper at another angle, and Brendon's loud. He knows by now that Brendon's getting dangerously close to the edge, so he pulls away from Brendon's tight hold to grab the headboard with one hand and fuck him with all of his might.

Tears spill from Brendon's eyes, he has nothing to hold onto to channel everything he's feeling, he's moaning loud enough to where people across the street might hear him.

"S-sir I'm g-gonna.. c-come," he pants out in a strained voice, he's looking up at Dallon with glistening, tense, dark eyes. The man looks down at him with a determined sense of dominance, his hair a sweaty mess and his hand encircling around Brendon's throat, squeezing softly.

"Come for me, b-baby boy," he growls and angles his hips up enough to make Brendon's back arch and the boy to cry out, he doesn't get the chance to touch himself before he's coming against his stomach and letting out loud, breathy moans.

He tenses around Dallon as he climaxes, the man keeps his harsh pace until it becomes shaky and slows down a bit, and with one, two, three more harsh thrusts, Brendon's whimpering at the feeling of warmth filling him, and Dallon let's out a deep moan. It's the prettiest fucking sound Brendon's ever heard.

Dallon fights to ride out both of their highs, and when Brendon's whimpering in from oversensitivity, his hips finally slow to a stop. The hand around Brendon's neck loosens and drops to support Dallon's weight on one side of his body, the hand holding the headboard drops to the other, like before.

They pant in unison for several moments, then the worst part, Dallon slowly pulls out of his lover, who's eyebrows above his closed eyes furrow. He falls to the left and rolls into his back beside Brendon, catching his breath as the boy rolls into his side and clearly struggles to not fall into minor sub drop.

Dallon wraps his sweaty arms around the boy and pulls him close, kissing the top of his sweaty hair and rubbing his back with one of his hands.

"I love you." Brendon suddenly states, he feels warmth dripping down his legs and whether it's blood or the latter, he knows he's going to have to work hard to get the stain out.

"I love you too, beautiful." Dallon replies in a mellow sweet voice, looking down at the boy with a smile, and when Brendon looks up at him with big doe eyes, he returns it.

"I really am sorry about earlier."

"And I'm sorry about the bite marks on your neck, they look painful. Looks like we've both got things to be sorry for," he jokes darkly. "You really don't need to apologize for that."

"But-"

"You've apologized enough as it is. What do you say we go take a nice warm shower?"

Brendon drops the subject, then nods with a smile. "I'd like that."

As they get up, Brendon has a great struggle, so Dallon assists. He leads him to the bathroom and Brendon can't help but bite his lip in pride at all the marks on Dallon's back.

'Mine' was the only thought going through his head.

'Mine'.. his new word of the week. It's got a ring to it.

Dallon turns on the hot water, adjusts it, then turns on the shower head. It stutters, then settles on a steady sound. Brendon smiles up at him as he's taken into the taller mans arms, Dallon looks down at him with a smile so content that he looks high on something.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Hmmm?"

"On our anniversary."

"Oh, I can't tell you that." He chuckles as he lets Brendon go and opens the curtain, climbing in before looking back and holding his hand out to the dark eyed boy, "but I suggest you start packing your suitcase."

 

_Fin_.


End file.
